Tendril Hearts (Immortals Book 11)

by LJ Vickery

  “And the answer to that is yes, I’d be more than happy to watch your back.” She swept imperious eyes to the Lauernley king who was picking himself up off of the floor.

  There was a growl as Waylon looked menacingly in Lavarette’s direction. He took a quick step toward her.

  She quickly and smartly finished up. “You can fill me in on all the details later. Eeep!” The air left her body as the king lunged, lifted, and threw her up over his shoulder. Her head hung down, and she gave the entire room a cheeky, upside-down smile and a final wave of her adorable, little three-fingered hand before being hauled from the room.

  “Will she be alright?” Verrie asked, looking horrified.

  “Hell, yeah,” Lenore answered, fanning herself. “She’ll be more than okay. Did you see the look on Waylon’s face? Who wouldn’t want to be Lavarette right now?” There was a spate of lustful agreement and half-lidded sighs from the rest of the women in the room.

  “Really? You know, you guys, nothing in this house is normal,” Verrie groused. But Muze noticed her nipples had hardened beneath her t-shirt in response to the show of power that had just unfolded. “Dammit. What have I gotten myself into?” Veronica breathed out but held up a quick hand. “And don’t anybody answer that,” she ordered. “It was purely rhetorical.”

  Laughter came from every being in the room, breaking the sexual tension, and the meeting was resumed.

  “Let’s get back to business.” Was that a tear of laughter Marduk wiped from the corner of his eye? “Muze. Take control of this discussion, would you? If that’s at all possible.”

  “My pleasure, boss.” Dumuzi looked around the room. “Now that we’ve established I’ll be going with a back-up glowie contingency, would anyone else care to join me? The more, the merrier.”

  “I’d be interested,” King Nergal replied, and he wasn’t alone. Almost every hand went up around the room.

  The royal asked the next question. “Do you have any idea how much Underworld territory you’d like to cover?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Muze mused. “I’m going to make a leap here and look at things historically.” Everyone quieted, settling down to listen. “When I was in Mesopotamia, I had my episodes off and on from 239BC until I was taken to the Underworld in 17AD.” He tried not to look at Veronica. This was the first time he’d mentioned his descent to hell in her presence.

  “Once I was in Nergal’s realm, I stopped suffering from the changes, and as you all recall, I didn’t have any in Merrymount either. So my thought is, perhaps I was too far away from Verrie’s ancestors to detect their distress?”

  “Or there was no distress to detect. My ancestors might have been too far away from the demons to hear them.” Verrie jumped up out of her seat, clearly excited. “I think I’ve already told you. When I lived in Boston, I was full of the voices, every month, but once I moved to Colorado…nothing. Nada. Zip.”

  “Okay,” Marduk broke in. “What if we assume both situations? In order for the demons to get the upper hand, Verrie’s people had to be within a certain proximity to hear them. And Muze had to be near to the women in order to effect his change.”

  “I’ll take this a step further,” Nergal supplied. “The demons must have made a move from a position near Sumer when Verrie’s ancestors left the area. In order to orchestrate their harassment there, they needed to be in the nether-world below the Hellenic Trench. But when the ancestors of Arwi moved, they clearly followed. It makes sense. From what you’ve shown on your timeline, Verrie’s family moved from Sumer to England. At that time, maybe they were still privy to the voices or maybe not. But for a certainty, Muze wasn’t. He was in Merrymount and incident free. But when Verrie’s people moved to Boston in 1820…”

  “I started having my episodes again,” Dumuzi confirmed. “The women or the demons may have been too far away in England, but Boston was on my doorstep.”

  “I’m going to put in another guess.” Nergal leaned back in his chair and stroked his square jaw. “I’m going to say these demons are currently hiding out and operating in the part of hell that lies under the Atlantic Ocean below the Laurentian Abyss.” He named an underwater valley off the coast of Canada. “The only other possibility would be the Puerto Rico Trench, but that doesn’t feel right. Not only is it a few hundred miles too far, but Manungal rules there. She’s always been a hard-ass and known for keeping bad elements in check.”

  Dumuzi looked thoughtful. “So the Laurentian Abyss it is. How do we get there?”

  “It shouldn’t be too difficult to transport the group that needs to go.” Nergal grimaced. “The real problem will be how to deal with Galla.”

  There were groans all around the room.

  Fucking Galla, thought Dumuzi.

  “Okay, I’ll bite.” Verrie had it right to look worried. “Who’s Galla?”

  Nergal answered, “He’s a deposed Babylonian demon who―last these gods saw him,” Nergal leveled his gaze at the squirming immortals, “was most likely eating the flesh and drinking the blood of any hapless mortal who got in his way.”

  Dumuzi watched Verrie screw up her face. “Really,” she exclaimed. “Then why does this…thing…get to be in charge of an area of hell?”

  “Because, my dear, his daddy is none other than the devil himself—Beelzebub, The Prince of Darkness. And when the overgods were tired of Galla’s antics on earth, they delicately negotiated with Mr. Supreme-nastiness to send his son below. The offshoot was, in order to rid the earth of him, Galla was made into a god.” Nergal looked like he smelled something bad as he finished. “He was subsequently given dominion over the portion of Underworld we’ve mentioned.”

  Nergal plucked at his bronze armbands. Dumuzi had hardly ever seen the deity look so disgusted. “Technically, I’m Galla’s boss. He and I have maintained a…working relationship…for a good many years. He’s always invited to my little soirées and I to his. But only to keep the peace and not rattle his father. I’ve always refrained from poking my nose too far into his business. For that reason, he might not take lightly, me asking if a party can infiltrate his territory to hunt down and destroy some of his creatures. Creatures who could easily resemble what he once was.”

  Dumuzi understood the problem. And it sucked.

  “That’s not saying I won’t attempt it.” Nergal held up a hand, straightened, and gave Verrie a nod. “We can’t have any little godlings you and Muze produce being harassed by Underworld scum, now can we? And that’s what we’re talking about here. You being at the mercy of some lowlife, demon trash. No,” he got to his feet and thrust his chin in the air, “that isn’t going to happen on my watch.

  “Let me run all this by Ereshkigal. Historically, she’s had an easier time dealing with Galla. I’m certain she’ll come up with a diplomatic way to approach him,” the king assured. “In the meantime, let me know when plans for your summer solstice celebration―and, of course, the amulet ceremony―are complete. The queen and I wouldn’t think of missing them even if she is unusually large for this juncture of her pregnancy.”

  The king eyeballed Dr. Dani who had repeatedly refused to give over the possibility of multiple-fetal-formations. The doctor simply smiled beatifically at the king.

  “Fine. Keep playing it that way,” he pursed his lips at Dani. “Good day, all. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve been in touch with Galla.” Nergal misted out, and the room let out a collective held breath.

  It had been a mind-blowing morning.

  Dumuzi wasn’t sure what anyone else had planned, but he was rung out. It was only ten a.m., but he was going back to bed―he eyed his mate―for more than one reason. He tugged on her hand, giving her a suggestive twitch of his mouth, and with a few curt goodbyes, they left the room.

  ****

  Really? Muze growled.

  It was getting old, how jarring Marduk’s voice had become. One orgasm away from giving Verrie a promised trifecta, the thunder god pontificated again. At least this ti
me, nobody had to get dressed. The communication was done head-style.

  Nergal just got back to me, Marduk’s voice broadcast. It seems, with very little cajoling from Eresh―and a great deal of wine―Galla has not only acquiesced to our request but has intimated he will be more than happy to allow god-intervention toward whatever demons are responsible. Apparently, there is a group in his domain that has been out of hand for centuries and has succeeded in shutting down his attempts to police their area of Hell. And by police, Nergal believes Galla means extort. It seems, the demon-turned-god likes payment from his ‘subjects,’ and this particular group has continuously thwarted his demands, using some kind of protective energy with which Galla is unfamiliar. If we can solve this problem for him, we have his permission to remove those we think are responsible for obstructing him and bring them back to Nergal’s realm for questioning.

  He paused before continuing. Anyone who is interested…and not pregnant―he said this because several of the goddesses were currently knocked-up and feeling like it didn’t preclude them from helping to deal with bad guys―should meet Nergal and Ereshkigal in the foyer in twenty minutes to be transported to hell.

  Dumuzi placed a kiss on the end of Verrie’s nose. “That’s me, babe.” He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “Don’t hold lunch.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Beletseri was abruptly awakened by rough hands. Gods-dammit. She’d had a particularly puke-y night and sleep had just overtaken her.

  “What the fuck time is it?” she spewed grumpily, wrenching her shoulder away from a suddenly harsh grasp. It had to be one or two in the morning.

  “Shut up and get to your feet.” It was Ridhwan’s voice.

  “Don’t tell me it’s time for my video debut,” Bel scathed, remaining on the ground and remembering Ridhwan had said he was going to send a visual message of her to…hopefully, Marla and Matthew. “I’m not exactly looking my best right now.”

  “Idiot.” Ridhwan seethed. “That’s not what brought me here in the middle of the night.” He kicked her in anger. “There’s something going on in hell, and I’m sure it has something to do with your husband’s search for you.”

  Why he thought that, he wasn’t letting on.

  “You have to be hidden in case he’s found a way to come for you, and I have to go take care of business before all of my plans are ruined.” He grabbed Bel and yanked her up.

  “Exactly where am I going?” the goddess asked, moving out of his anger-zone and absently brushing off the small, night-time crawly things that always lurked and nestled next to her warmth while she slept. The insects which had bothered her tremendously during her first few weeks of captivity now garnered little interest.

  “If your husband infiltrates our hideaway, the first place he and his people will look for you is in this cave or a hut here in our main sanctuary area. We need you away from this central location with your scent and trail obliterated,” he growled. “There is a hidden grotto inside our westernmost boundary. You will be rubbed with cat pheromones and taken there.”

  “Great. A bath in kitty-pee. I can’t wait,” Bel grimaced. How many more indignities would she have to suffer before Matthew found her?

  Ridhwan yowled to the big shifter who had been guarding her door. Funny. She hadn’t seen his other two right-paw lieutenants in several days. She had no time to think on that as Ridhwan thrust her into the currently present, tremendous tabby’s hands.

  “Make haste and don’t let her out of the grotto until I return,” Ridhwan ordered his guarding puma. “There is something I should have taken care of as soon as those other cat goddesses were discovered by the gods. I hope it’s not too late.” He poofed out in a high snit.

  “Raaa-ow,” snarked Bel. “Someone’s got his tail in a kink.” She jerked her arm out of her bodyguard’s big paw and gave him a stare full of distaste. “You may show me the litter box, and the way to this grotto, but no touching, or I’ll have my husband de-claw you the minute he arrives.” Bel didn’t have to repeat her warning. She was herded from the cave, but happily, even during her…spraying, there was no direct touching.

  Bel, walking through the dense underbrush, breathed in the fresh, night air. Although the jungle remained thick and acrid, and her own scent was now anything but pleasant, the cloying aspect of the cave and its surrounding terrain was missing. Perhaps she’d been doing things all wrong. Would it behoove her to stay up all night and sleep during the uncomfortable heat of the day? It might make a difference to whatever was ailing her. She’d have to ask her captors if that was possible, but weren’t kitties mostly nocturnal? Perhaps they’d changed their schedules to keep an eye on her, and the shift would benefit them all.

  Roots and rocks marred the overgrown pathway, but Bel’s goddess vision spotted most of them, keeping her from tumbling indelicately to the ground. She snorted to herself. One thing was certain. When she finally got out of this vermin-ridden jungle, she was never going outside again. As lonely as the Underworld had been, she pined for her old apartment where everything was comfortably familiar. She wondered if there wasn’t a small plot of Hellish real estate somewhere down below she and Matthew could eventually call their own. Bel sighed. If her whole deceptive debacle got back to Nergal, Bel had no doubt her idea of a small plot and the king’s interpretation of such would be worlds apart.

  After being thrust into a cool grotto, the next hour was uneventful. Bel remained on edge, but didn’t know what she waited for. Ridhwan had mentioned the possibility of her husband showing up because of some fracas in Hell. Maybe that’s why she felt so alert although it wouldn’t be her husband coming to the rescue, now would it?

  Bel tried to stay positive. She could hope for a coup where her god would come charging in with Marla and Jeremiah as cavalry to the rescue. Now that would be a happy event. And the timing couldn’t be any better. Ridhwan was in Hell, and two of his butt-sniffers were absent.

  Bel bit one of her previously elegant nails which was now severely length-challenged. Top-most on her mind? Why had Ridhwan gone to Hell? It seriously bugged her, but those musings were doing no good. Instead, she should be planning what to do if escape-time presented itself.

  Bel’s eyes drifted around the vine-covered grotto where she’d been taken. She had earlier walked the perimeter and knew the back wall of her enclosure was integrated with the energy barrier system Ridhwan had erected. The two side walls were impenetrable due to thick vines and thorns, and the front was guarded by one overgrown tom.

  She’d spent weeks studying the comings and goings of her captors after her one and only unsuccessful attempt at escape and was well aware either Ridhwan or one of his key-three had to put their body through the invisible barrier in order to hold it open for others to pass. She’d thought previously everyone―and everything―could just walk through it, but she had been mistaken. She would not be caught with another such misstep.

  She let her mind work through various scenarios. It was dark, and her viney prison was smack dab at the farthest boundary of the cat-world. If she could overpower her sentry and drag his body… No. That was out of the question. She was too sick and weak to overwhelm him. Even if her goddess powers returned full-blast, she would still have had a tough time against the huge shifter. Better to regain her strength or wait for…

  What was that? Her senses went into overdrive. Was that a rustling in the brush? She watched her guard straighten up, suddenly on alert. He heard it too. Could it be… Bel watched the trees anxiously for a moment, then her shoulders fell.

  Shit. Of course not.

  The hulking cat relaxed too, laughed, and picked up a large rock. He threw it toward the noise. The white, lumbering shape of an enormous moonrat took a direct hit, then skittered around the small clearing confused before running back across the jungle floor to disappear into the undergrowth. Fucking rodents.

  The second time the noise occurred, Bel barely looked up. Neither did her guard until a strangled cry
a short distance away split the night.

  What the…? Definitely cat and most certainly anguished.

  Her babysitter drew forth a lethal-looking knife, walking several paces into the undergrowth. Bel tiptoed forward and stood, poised at the entrance, listening. She wished she understood their damned cat language. She’d give anything to know what the pair were yowling back and forth.

  Wait. Over the caterwauling. Was that a human voice? Female? Was it Ridhwan yelling? Had he brought back a human from his trip to hell? A goddess? There was only one way to find out, and she risked nothing to try. Bel figured out early on although Ridhwan knew gods communicated by head―and he could throw up interference to block it―he was completely unable to hear immortal head-speak.

  Is there a goddess out there? Bel queried.

  Yes. No. I mean sort-of. Who am I speaking to?

  Before Bel could quite get her mind around that or begin to place the voice, she focused into the dark and saw her own watchman dragging one of Ridhwan’s other top-cats out of the jungle with an arm clamped around his middle. His other was locked around the body of a small, squirming female. A third person or cat unknown, walked behind them, sporting a lethal posture.

  Quinn? Bel asked of the ether, then shook her head even before she got her answer. It couldn’t be Sham’s mate unless the new goddess had passed a crash course in god-speak. Last Bel knew, the deaf Chosen could speak it, but not fluently enough for the nuance that had been in the little sampling Bel had just received.

  No. It’s not Quinn, came the answer, amidst angry huffs and puffs. The group was so close now, Bel forced herself to be patient. She took a few steps back and took stock. There certainly was a lot of kicking and swearing going on. Whoever was being taken captive, the female didn’t take her manhandling lightly. But fight as she may, she wasn’t able to shake off the shifter. So it wasn’t an actual goddess. No female deity―except for Bel in her emaciated condition―was that weak. This was all very strange. Head speak without goddess cred? Nothing added up.